Droit de Seigneur : by (c)  Hamilton Joyce Mm  Mf

Two servants struggled across the room with a huge black cauldron and 
poured the last of the hot water into the wooden half-barrel that acted as a 
bathtub. Steam rose like a river mist , wreathed, and disappeared into the 
gloomy roof-beams and stone vaulting. 

It was the custom of the castle's lord, the Vicomte Henri de Vergegros, to 
bathe on the eve of the four great festivals. The tub would be swung up to his 
apartments on a great crane, and in through the windows. In the morning it 
would be emptied again, and lowered to the ground. It was not a procedure for 
every day! Many of his knights considered it an eccentricity for him to bathe 
at all, but it had become accepted as part of the customs of the Castle. The 
next day the greatest of his retainers would bring in their rents and taxes and 
would hand them over at a public ceremony. Most of the money had been 
collected by his servants much earlier, of course. His Steward would enter the 
sums on the roll, which he would then present to his master. A procession 
would form, and into the Chapel for an interminably long mass. Knights and 
ladies would chatter and laugh throughout this ceremonial, arranging trysts for 
the following night. From the Chapel to the Great Hall, for the feasting, 
music, and dancing. Tomorrow was the quarterly winter festival of St 
Stephen.

The servants left with their bucket. His esquire, Percival, heaved a great billet 
of wood onto the open fire. A column of sparks rose towards the darkness. 
Percival bowed as he closed the great oak door, and the sounds of the castle, 
laughter and music, abruptly ceased.

Lord Henri was attended only by the page, the boy Luc.

'Disrobe me, boy.'

Lord Henri had little time for this finery, but knew the role of conspicuous 
extravagance in maintaining the correct social order. So the disrobing was a 
long and complicated affair. The great sable mantle, the pointed silk and 
leather shoes, velvet doublet, fine lawn shirt, silken stockings. Little fingers 
picked at him as the laces and buttons were unfastened. Each garment was 
carefully folded and placed in an oaken chest. 

Finally he was naked, and the boy held his hand as he stepped into the barrel, 
with its two feet of scalding hot water.  

Luc had never been as close as this before to a naked man. There was a 
strange tightness in his chest, and his heart was beating. We must remember 
these fighting knights were the football heroes of their age, the pop-stars. And 
more, they were the rulers and sometimes the protectors. Legally they actually 
owned their fans. Everything about the man's body was built in the heroic 
mould. As he steadied him stepping into his tub, Luc looked at the broad 
shoulders, the bull neck, the massive arms, framed to wield a great  
broadsword. His eyes took in that flat belly and the tight, hard buttocks honed 
by years in the saddle. And the muscular legs, formed by long military 
campaigns. And over all, over chest, back, buttocks, a mat of thick black hair. 
And especially there, where his manhood hung graceful. Everything about the 
man was aggressively masculine except, strangely, his cock. Luc was 
hypnotised by it. It looked incongruously tender, soft, feminine as it nestled 
there like some frightened bird.
Luc was pleased to see his hero, like himself, had been circumcised.

The pageboy felt a stirring in his loins. Astoundingly, he was at least half-
hard. And it was not the vision of a palace maiden in her silken robes, or the 
passing glimpse of a peasant girl's breast. No, it was this bear of a man with 
his arching, pink-helmeted prick.

The knight sank down into the warm water, his legs opened and almost 
squatting so the shallow water covered his shoulders. His cock floated free.

'Soap, Luc.'

The soap had been made in the kitchen from oil and ashes, and was still 
almost liquid. 

'Soap my back, Luc.'

Using the sponge the page worked soap into the matted hair of back and chest. 
His master lifted his arms for the boy to clean there. The knight's body was a 
mesh of scars from battle, but here, under the right armpit was the largest, a 
long, deep slash, raised white against the darker skin. The boy dropped his 
sponge and allowed his finger to trace its length.

'That was Agincourt, boy, where the cursed English massacred the flower of 
our nation. 

'It was an act of murder they say, sire.'

'It was. We were unhorsed by their archers, and then their wild Irish and 
Welsh, rug-headed kerns, moved amongst the fallen knights slitting throats. 
On St Crispin's day the chivalry of war died. That wound was a knife slipped 
between the seams of my armour. I only live by the skill of Isaac Benjamin.'

'The Doctor ... My father fell at Agincourt.'

'He did. A fine knight and fighter. You resemble him in looks. You remember 
him.'

'No, sire. I was three.'

'He was the closest of my companions through childhood and youth, and my 
loss was as great as yours. Your nurse brought you and your sister to me for 
your protection. The Seargeant at Arms says you are progressing well in the 
arts of war.'

'I lack strength in my arms, sire. '

'That will come, boy. Learn the skills and the strength will come.' He reached 
out and ruffled the boy's golden curls. He found himself looking at the boy, 
his slender hips and rounded, soft buttocks. And there, where water had 
dripped onto his white silk tights, they had become semi-transparent, and he 
could make out the shape of the boy's cock. From the shape of the knob Isaac 
had circumcised him  too. Hidden under the suds he knew  his cock was 
hardening. And why not? Someone would have the boy soon, probably the 
Sergeant. If he had not had him already, the old goat!

He stood up. 'Soap me here, boy.' Luc reached for the sponge floating on the 
surface. 'No, Luc. Use your hands.'

How luxurious to stand there while the boy massaged his thighs and arse. He 
instructed him not to forget the arsehole itself, and those small soft hands 
rubbed and stroked. His cock was hard now. The boy had not touched it. 
'What's the matter boy? Never seen a prick before?'

'Never one so big, sire. It is so red and angry.' He was rubbing his soapy hand 
up and down the shaft now.

'Care, boy! Or you'll have a surprise.' He laughed and sank back into the 
water. He was still erect when he stood again, and stepped from the tub into 
the thick robe the boy held open for him. Luc found himself imagining that 
'surprise'. He found he would like to see the white spurt from it, as so often it 
did at night in his solitary bed. He guessed this huge male would spurt, and 
spurt, and spurt. Now Luc really was hard, his cock pushing against his damp 
tights.

His Lord looked hard at the shape of the cock, making such an interesting tent.

'When did you last bathe, Luc?'

'Michaelmas, sire. And it was cold water.'

'Then it's high time you had another. Undress and get in this.' 

As Sir Henri wrapped himself in a huge brown wrap to dry, the boy stripped, 
and stepped lightly into the still steaming water. Dry, Sir Henri threw the robe 
off, and approached the tub.
That pretty little erect cock was hidden now in the lather, but Sir Henri's 
certainly was not, standing cantilevered like a great jousting lance in front of 
him. The boy was scrubbing at the dirt on his chest and back. His nipples 
showed pink, and the bare, hairless chest white as the snow on the ground in 
the fields beyond the castle.

Greatly daring, the boy stood, exposing his erection to the gaze of his lord. His 
heart was beating within his chest, as when he had glimpsed Marie Trebaut's 
thighs in the dairy. He realised he was in some strange way in love with this 
bear of a man, just as he had thought himself smitten by Marie. He was 
soaping his thighs and arse. He scarcely dared to touch his cock so excited 
was he by the naked, erect male standing over him.

Then, astoundingly, Sir Henri was soaping him. Luc had to achieve a miracle 
of control not to cum as those hairy paws rubbed at his cock. Then, to his 
relief, they moved to caress his balls, and round to his buttocks. A finger 
probed and rubbed at his secret spot there. In his eagerness to clean the boy 
thoroughly, Luc thought, a finger even slipped into his anus, and rubbed soap 
there.

Finally he was done, and allowed the boy to squat back in the tub, and swish 
the soap away. Sir Henri took a fur from his bed and threw it across the floor 
in front of the blazing fire. Carefully he placed a glass flask in the warmth. 
then back to the tub, where he reached and lifted the boy lightly, holding him 
cradled in both arms. 

Luc was in ecstasy. He felt himself enveloped by this man he had idolised, 
and he recognised that his hero felt the same emotions towards him. Both had 
hard cocks! And just as Sir Henri was exciting to Luc, so the boy must be 
exciting to Sir Henri!   He wrapped him in the robe a moment, drying him, 
and then carried him naked to the hearth, where he lay him gently on the deep 
fur.  

 This was the mother, the father he never had, and his first lover. Those 
massive arms enfolded him, and he was held to the hairy body. His Lord 
rolled on his back, Luc on top of him. The boy felt hands caressing, stroking 
his arse and back. Then lips on his. He closed his eyes as the tongue 
penetrated his mouth. He reciprocated, caressing the hairy, muscular frame, 
forcing his own tongue past the mouth of his lover... for that was what he was, 
or would shortly become. He saw a hand reach out for the bottle by the fire, 
and felt warmth in the crease of his arse. Then the smell of lavender as the 
warm oil was finger-rubbed into the crack, into his very anus. That horny 
forefinger again penetrated him, but further this time, His mouth was 
smothered by lips, and he luxuriated in a feeling not far from that he felt in his 
anus as he came, alone at night. It was warm and full and close to orgasm. 
Whatever his lord was doing up there, it was good.

He came out of his reverie. His Lord was speaking to him. 'It will hurt at first, 
but then be good. You must be brave for the first minutes.

He was rolled over on his side, facing the fire, one leg out straight, the other 
bent. He felt Sir Henri's beard tickle as  his arse cheeks were parted, and his 
Lord kissed him there. He giggled, and wriggled, and was rewarded by feeling 
the tongue penetrate. He giggled some more. This was fun. His cock was 
crushed into the deep fur, but he could feel it twitching.

Sir Henri was pressed against him now, one arm around his chest, pulling him 
back, the other hand on his buttock-cheek, pulling it apart. There was a 
pressure against his anus. It was good! He knew it was Sir Henri's great knob. 
He liked the feeling. But then a sudden sharp pain, as if he was being torn, 
deep inside.

Suddenly he was afraid. But he thought of his lover's scars, of the cruel 
sword-thrust in the armpit. He thought of hiss father's brave death on the field 
of battle. 'I must be strong, be brave, be manly,' he thought.

Sir Henri felt his knob slip past the constricting muscle, and knew this would 
be good. There was no scream. He was glad. Not that it mattered. His servants 
had heard many a virgin scream from this bedchamber. He suspected Percival 
and his lesser retainers were outside the oaken doors, listening for just that. 
But he felt the boy flinch, and his anus contract, even more delightfully tight. 
Absent-mindedly, he was tweaking one nut-hard nipple between finger and 
thumb. With his other hand he stroked the boy's arse, whispering calming 
words in his ear, as one would a scared foal, first introduced to bridle and bit. 
The muscle relaxed, and he pressed in further, slipping in easily now. He 
pressed in and in, pulling the boy back on him, till his hairy belly rested on 
those white, naked buttocks. Now! Now gently in and out. 

The first shock of pain passed, and was replaced by a dull feeling of fullness, 
and then? And then, nothing! He felt pride at withstanding the attack of his 
massive lover, and a feeling close to adoration as he realised he was his 
lover's chosen, that his Lord would fill him with his seed. Now the cock was 
moving smoothly in and out, just as when he had spied on Jenkin and the 
scullery maid Esther. His lover licked his neck, and then whispered in his ear 
how much he was enjoying his body. Strangely, the feeling inside him had 
changed, and he recognised it as like the feeling there as he came, 
masturbating. His Lord had said it would be good finally, and it was! He 
pushed his buttocks up and back to meet the thrust, and was rewarded with 
faster and harder strokes.

Sir Henri reached beneath the boy to hold his cock. It was only half-hard. But 
at that moment he felt the boy press backwards with his buttocks, and moan in 
pleasure. The prick was hard now. The boy was feeling the pleasure as he 
ought. Harder now, faster.

Luc knew his Lord was about to come, and wondered if he would feel the 
spurts of spunk. He wriggled his arse. Sir Henri swore a great oath, and the 
thrusts became long and fierce. He was coming. Luc felt the cock slide even 
easier as his arse was filled. Then one great, final thrust, and silence.

After a moment or two, the boy's arse contracted, and expelled the cock. Luc 
enjoyed that. Now, he realised, he would enjoy his next dump in a different 
way! Sir Henri rose and went over to a table, where he rinsed and dried his 
prick.

Back in front of the fir, he took the boy in his arms and kissed him. 'You were 
brave, Luc.'

'It was good, at the end, Sire.'

'Yes. And many's the time your father and I lay in front of this very same 
fire.'

'And did you fuck him, too, Sire?'

'Always. We were only really boys then. But mostly he liked this.' He turned 
the boy onto his back, and his mouth was on the boy's knob.  

Luc was rolled over onto his side, and felt the mouth close on his prick, 
drawing it deeper and deeper until that bearded chin was pressed against his 
own hairless belly. firm hands pushed at him, and pulled at him, and he found 
his cock was moving in and out. There was a sudden feeling of pride. He was 
fucking his own Lord, that great and heroic man. just as his Lord had 
possessed him, penetrating him, and spilling his seed in him, so he was now 
possessing his Lord, and he knew it would not be long before his Lord 
received the gift of his page's seed.

The man's tongue was making skilful little fluttering movements along the 
sensitive front of the cock as the boy fucked harder and faster. The orgasm 
grew in his balls, in that place in his arse his Lord had found out, and finally, 
almost painful in its strength, the orgasm came, and his cum flowed. It spurted 
into his Lord's mouth, and he heard the stifled groan of pleasure from his 
lover. Two last thrusts deep into his throat, and they lay silent.

Later Sir Henri lay naked and satisfied for the moment as the boy dressed. 

'You should tell the Sergeant at Arms when you get the chance. Tell him what 
we did tonight, and if you are lucky he will take you to his bed. He is old, but 
a powerful fucker. I know. He was the first to have me many years ago.'

'I shall, Sire. And thank you, Sire, for favouring me.'

'But not tomorrow, as I want you again, one more time, tomorrow night.'

'Thank you, Sir.'

'But not alone. Bring with you your sister Heloise. Tell her to wash and 
perfume herself ready. She will understand!

                              .............................................................................

The feast was reaching its end. Guests, mostly drunk, were sorting themselves 
into pairs, threesomes, foursomes for the further pleasures of the night, largely 
ignoring the acrobats who had travelled the long roads from Cathay to 
entertain them. The Lord's wife was flirting openly with her current lover, the 
handsome Gascon de Beaucul. Sir Henri himself looked across the rush-
covered floor to his own two pleasures of the night. Luc was whispering in his 
sister's ear, presumably a comment on his Lord, because at that moment both 
looked towards him. Their eyes met. Luc held his gaze, smiling boldly, but his 
sister lowered her eyes, blushing charmingly. Sir Henri felt his cock harden in 
anticipation.

He summoned his Squire, Percival. As the boy stood beside him, he realised 
he had been neglecting him of late. He ran his hand up the inside of the boy's 
thigh, letting it rest finally on the bulge of his loins. 'Next week, Percival, we 
shall renew old delights.'

'Thank you, Sire.'

'Meantime, lead Luc and Louise to my chamber. I shall follow in ten minutes. 
Prepare them. Naked.'

No-one could leave before Sir Henri, so it was very noticeable as his Squire 
lead the boy and girl from the hall. There were nudges, and winks. Men, and 
women too, trailed them with their eyes, envying their Lord his partners for 
the night.

                          .............................................................................

Percival was awaiting his Lord in the anteroom to the bedchamber. 

'Disrobe me, Squire.' Sir Henri intended to enter the room naked, for 
maximum effect. As the boy undressed him, carefully folding the rich clothes, 
he fondled his curly, dark hair. 'You are become a handsome young man, 
Percival.'

'Thank you, Sire.'

Sir Henri's cock was at least half-hard as the lad pulled down the white silk 
hose. He reached for the boy's bulge, which showed he, too, was hardening. 
He fondled the growing lump of flesh beneath the lad's cotton hose. 'We shall 
have a night of pleasure again next week boy.'

'Thank you, Sire.'

Sir Henri was completely hard and throbbing now, as his Squire opened the 
great oak door for him. He stepped across the threshold and the door closed 
behind him. 

Doubtless Percival had enjoyed supervising the disrobing of the two 
teenagers, and had checked that they were clean and wholesome. Anyway, as 
the Vicomte entered his bedchamber he saw the two standing naked before the 
fire. pretty little arses, both slim, but one more rounded than the other. They 
held hands as they turned to face him. The boy bowed slightly, and the girl 
curtsied. 

Percival himself had knelt, and applied his eye to the keyhole. He saw his 
Lord advance on the children, and the look of surprise or fear on the girl's 
face, her arm raised as if to protect her face from that huge, red, angry weapon 
pointing at her like a knight's lance. Percival slipped his cock out, and jerked 
gently, slowly as he watched. he saw the muscular figure of his Lord embrace 
the couple, taking both into his arms, and hugging them to him, black, matted 
hair against smooth, white flesh. The boy, he saw was erect, but only a third of 
the size of his Lord.

Then he saw Sir Henri lift the girl effortlessly and carry her to the bed. The 
boy followed.  

Her lips resisted his a moment as he kissed her, but then parted to admit his 
tongue. He felt for her breast, firm and rounded.

I was  all so strange for her, the feeling of submission to this huge, muscular 
man. His body was so rough and hairy against her soft skin, and his tongue so 
insistent in seeking out her teeth and palate. He had her nipple between his 
thumb and forefinger, and was tweaking it, Little shivers went running 
through her body, from her breast to her clit. She could feel the alarming 
shape of his cock pressed against her as they embraced.

Now his lips left hers, and he was kissing her breast, sucking her nipple.

'Lick the other one, boy. You will never find a tit as shapely and firm as 
these.'

Now her brother was embracing her too. She was squashed between the two 
males, a mouth on each breast.

Sir Henri rolled her over on her back. His mouth was on her navel, and then 
on her belly.

He looked at her cunt from so close, inches. He could see the lips were 
swollen, still white under that light fleece of gold, but parted so her little pearl 
of a clit peeked out, glistening. He parted the lips with finger and thumb, and 
applied his open mouth to her cunt. He felt her flinch, just as she had when he 
kissed her, but she relaxed as he tongued her clit. Her brother still fondled 
breasts, sucked pink nipples.

'Please, Luc, kiss me. That was lovely, but you're making my bubbies sore.'

Sir Henri now had two arses to fondle as he sucked, his face buried between 
her smooth thighs. She was moving under him now, her hips making tiny 
fucking movements, forcing her cunt against his beard, his lips, even his nose. 
The boy's lips over her mouth stifled her words, but Sir Henri could hear her 
come, as he could feel the movements of her cunt against him speed to a 
crescendo, and then fade away

'Give me her mouth, boy.' He pulled Luc away from his brotherly embrace 
and knelt over her. He could feel her hard nipples and firm 'bubbies' against 
his thighs, as he pushed his balls against her face. she smelt that man-scent for 
the first time, and felt the hairs of his balls against her lips. she licked, 
tentatively, with the very point of her tongue. She heard her Lord groan with 
pleasure, and licked more fully this time, open-mouthed. Again that groan, 
The hairs felt strange, but exciting against her tongue. Now her Lord moved 
back an inch, and his great weapon was waving inches above her face. There 
was a drop of liquid like a white teardrop in its single eye. She instinctively 
reached for it with the tip of her tongue. It tasted salty. But now that huge red 
helmet was forcing its way between her lips. It stretched her mouth almost 
painfully, but she found she could accommodate it after all.

'Suck her, Luc. You saw what I was doing. Suck her while I fuck her mouth.'

She would have to be taught later how to suck properly, how to bestow the 
unequalled pleasure a skilled young girl can give her man. But for the moment 
it was enough he had this virgin mouth to fill. He grasped her long blonde hair 
in one hairy fist to hold her head steady as he literally fucked her between her 
lips. She was gagging each time his knob hit her palate or her throat, he knew 
not which, nor cared. He was growling his pleasure, like a great bear. But he 
did not intend to come just yet. That was not the purpose of this night. He 
withdrew just short of coming.

'Is you brother doing it right, Heloise?'

'More on my nub, Luc. No not there. Ah! That's right. Just there. Oh yes!'

'Turn round and stop her mouth with your cock boy.'

It was warm, wet and welcoming, and with his smaller size she ws able to lick 
it inside her mouth. He felt her tongue flickering on the front of his shaft as 
she sucked him. He redoubled his efforts on her cunt, and again her hips were 
moving to meet his lips.

Sir Henri wandered over to the fire where his flask of oil was keeping warm. 
He returned to the great bed and stood over the couple, entwined, hands 
caressing, mouths pleasuring. As they lay on their sides, he fondled the 
rounder of the two bottoms, parted the cheeks and tipped some of the oil into 
the hairless crease. The scent of lavender filled the room. He tipped some oil 
into the palm of his hand, and stood over them watching their perfectly 
formed bodies reaching for ecstasy, stroking the oil into his cock. 

She probably came first, but he was only seconds later, and she knew for the 
first time the taste and feel of cum.

Sir Henri lay beside them, replacing Luc's cock with his lips in a kiss. He 
could taste the boy's come in her mouth.

'Will you fuck me tonight, Sir?'

'You will be thirteen in March, Heloise. And on your thirteenth birthday you 
are to be betrothed to Sir Gascon de Beaucul. By all accounts he is a vigorous 
young man.'

Both children, like the whole castle, knew who the main beneficiary of that 
vigour was!

'Thank you, Sire.' 

'And on the Feast of St Michael you will be wed to him in the Chapel, with 
the feast in the Great Hall after.'

His hand was over her cunt as he talked, cupping it in his palm. He slipped a 
finger into it, so moist and hot after her two orgasms. She was tight and 
muscular there, and he found the virginity he sought.

'You know the Droit de Seigneur, my child?'

'Yes, Sire.' She blushed. His finger in her cunt, and the child still blushed! He 
thought that charming.

'Well, Heloise, I shall take you to my bed the eve of Michaelmas, and you 
shall give me your virginity that night. To the pleasure of both of us, and if 
God wills it, a child for us.'

'Thank you, Sire.'

'Until then, no man is to enter here. No man has I see. has any man tried?'

She was silent

'Who has tried, child, tell me?'

'Bishop Rollo, Sire. He has often grabbed me and tried to force me.'

'The Dog! Well, my child, tell him to desist or I shall personally cut his balls 
off, have them roasted, and make him eat them. On toast.'

'I'll tell him that, Sire.'

'Good. And that goes for any other man. You may pleasure a man any other 
way you want, but not in the cunt. Custom reserves that right to me. Ius 
primae noctis. How is your Latin, girl?'

She was silent, but her brother spoke up. 'The Right of the First Night, Sire.'

'Precisely. And after your marriage as many men as you wish, how you wish, 
where you wish, and when you wish. Though I expect Sir Gascon will keep 
you busy for a week or two.'

'But now I am going to open this narrow way for them!' His finger had been 
stroking and pressing on her anus for some time, and she had been enjoying 
the unaccustomed feel. Now it slipped inside her. That, too was pleasant.

'I shall fuck you in your arse, child. That is the first of your virginities, the 
masculine one.'

'Oh, no, Sire. Please. You are too big. It will hurt.'

'Tell her, boy.'

'It hurts for a moment. Then it is all right. And at the end it is good. You must 
be brave sister.'

For a moment it was good. She liked the feel of his hairy thighs against hers, 
kneeling in front of him, and his hands, one on her breast  the other holding 
her at the hip. The feel of his cock pressing between her cheeks, pushing hard 
against her anus, was good too. But then there was a sudden, searing pain ...

Her scream echoed throughout the castle. Men and women looked at each 
other and smiled knowingly; Sir Gascon de Beaucul paused a second and then 
continued to fuck la Vicomtesse even harder; Percival's spunk arced  in the 
air, splattered on the oak door and dripped down it.  

Sir Henri was surprised how easily his knob slipped into her. He had rested it 
a moment in her oiled anus, gradually increasing the pressure, while he 
fondled a breast with his right hand. Then, both hands grasping he still-slender 
hips, he pushed hard. He caught her unawares, and the vital first inch was 
won. His knob was in her. Her scream rang out, but he ignored it. It would not 
be the first virginal scream that had been heard in this bedchamber! Her arse 
tightened on his cock, and he had to hold her steady as she tried to crawl 
forward, away from him, and off the prick that had penetrated her defences. 
He pulled her onto him, and pushed again. His cock was slipping up and into 
her. finally, his thighs rested against her buttocks, and he was completely in 
her. She was sobbing quietly now. her arse was, as expected, tight. 

He paused to enjoy her shape as she knelt in front of him. Slender, her bottom 
not much broader than a boy's, but certainly more rounded, and whiter, 
smoother. He clutched a handful of her long, blonde hair to control her, and 
started to fuck. Her sobs increased in intensity, and she pleaded with him to 
spare her. Useless, he thought. Useless to try to stop a man in mid-fuck. And 
what a fuck. He was slipping in and out easily as her anus had given up its 
struggle and accepted him. His thighs crashed into her arse, and he was 
holding her by her tits now, squeezing on them, using them to guide her 
motions.

Beside them, her brother was watching, stroking his erect cock.

He felt the orgasm mounting inside him, in his balls and his arse. With a few 
even more violent thrusts he came, and she collapsed under him, feeling the 
full weight of his frame as he pumped into her.

Done, for the moment, he rose and went over to the sideboard to rinse in the 
bowl of cold water. There was no blood. Good, he thought, I have not ruined 
her. No damage.

Luc was sitting on the bed beside her, cock-hard. 

'Fuck her boy. I've opened her for you, and you will never have a sweeter arse 
to shag.'

'But, Sire, Holy Mother Church has set her cannon against  .... incest.' He 
hardly dared mention the word.

'A fig for Holy Mother Church. Holy Mother Church has a cannon against 
shagging young girls. That doesn't stop Bishop Rollo going after them. One 
rule for them, one for the laity. Give her one, Luc. You know you want her. 
Give her one and show Holy Mother Church that their rules are for peasants, 
and not for Lords. Go on, boy.'

Luc had his sister kneeling this first time, as he had seen Sir Henri fuck her, 
and as he had himself been fucked by Sir Henri. Later he would learn the 
pleasure of having her on her back, legs raised and opened, tits available for 
his added pleasure. He had already come once, so it was a long and vigorous 
fuck she endured before he came in her. And to be honest, this smaller cock 
hardly hurt at all. there was no real pleasure for her, but no pain either. She 
found herself thinking about their mouths on her cunt. Now, she thought, that 
was delight. And the feel of a cock in her mouth. That was good, too. 

Sir Henri had come to the bedside, and managed to reach beneath her to 
fondle her nub while her brother buggered her. And that was good too. If only 
her Lord was not so big! She was not sobbing now, and there was some 
pleasure in giving pleasure to her brother.

When her brother too was done, and the three lay resting on the bed, she 
plucked up courage to ask her Lord a question that had been in her mind.

'Sire, the Droit de Seigneur. Did you take your rights with our mother?'

'I did indeed, child. In accordance with our traditions I took her to my bed the 
night before her wedding.'

'Then, Luc and I might be ....'

'Yes, there's a fair chance I am your father. More incest, Luc!' He laughed. 

'It hurt, Sire.'

'Luc and I will have to teach you to enjoy it, my little blonde angel. I shall 
find you both here after supper tomorrow.'

'I should like to see how Luc bears that terrible weapon, my Lord.'

'You shall. You shall.'

                                             .......................................................